


a taste of cinema

by hobbitual



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brock fucks up, Feeding, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Movie Reference, Popcorn, when doesn't he tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitual/pseuds/hobbitual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just some fluff and more movie references since i watch so many :^) my apologies in advance for the ending lmao</p><p>please enjoy and id love to know what you think!</p>
    </blockquote>





	a taste of cinema

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вкус кино](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126035) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



> just some fluff and more movie references since i watch so many :^) my apologies in advance for the ending lmao
> 
> please enjoy and id love to know what you think!

It's Sunday night and they've elected to watch a movie.

Brock had insisted on _Taxi Driver_ , pushing the DVD against Jack's chest. Jack hadn't taken the movie into his own hands immediately, but when Brock looked like he was about to start using it as a weapon, Jack had taken the case out of his hands.

“The hell's gotten into you tonight?” Jack said, wrapping an arm around Brock's neck and ruffling his hair with the other. “You've seen this one as many times as Scarface. Got a thing for Italian fellas? Don't blame you, though. And De Niro's much cuter than Pacino.”

Brock, thrumming with energy, had relaxed a little in Jack's embrace. At the last comment, however, he pushed at Jack's arms in a bid for escape. When Jack's arm wouldn't budge, Brock bent his knees and ducked his head, getting out of Jack's hold that way. Jack couldn't help but be impressed at the creativity and let him go.

“One, we never have time to do this so I'm taking advantage of it. Two, who fucking cares. And three,” Brock said, giving Jack his bitchiest glare, “shut the fuck up.”

Jack shrugged, popping the movie out of the case and putting it in the DVD player. “Your call, sweetheart,” he said, bringing up the main title screen on the TV. “Ready?”

“Wait,” Brock said, eyes wide. “We need –”

“Cupboard,” Jack said, taking a seat at the far end of the couch.

Jack watched as Brock grinned, genuinely and sweetly, and turned to sprint into the kitchen. It was still taking a bit of getting used to, Brock's sudden bursts of energy and excitement. A lot of his walls had come down, making him easier to be around. He could still be a pain in the ass sometimes, Jack thought, but the results of his own patience were pretty rewarding.

Jack put an arm up to rest on the back of the couch, craning his neck to watch as Brock rummaged in the cupboards for the box of popcorn. By a sheer stroke of luck, it was in the very back of the top cupboard, forcing Brock to stand on his toes to reach for it. Jack watched with a smirk as Brock almost brought the entirety of the cupboard's contents down with the popcorn and snorted a muffled laugh into his fist when Brock almost tripped on the hem of his too-long pajama pants.

After that, Brock had disappeared from view. There were a few beeps of the microwave, then the sound of the popcorn popping, and lastly, loud cursing as Brock no doubt burned his fingers opening the bag.

Brock had come out of the kitchen, bowl in one hand and the fingers of the other in his mouth. Handing the bowl to Jack, he wordlessly positioned himself with his head in Jack's lap and his torso and legs laying across the couch cushions, feet resting on the far armrest and toes curled around the curve.

When Brock had gotten comfortable, Jack gently set the bowl on Brock's stomach. This had garnered no complaint from Brock, so Jack had taken Brock's hurting fingers from his mouth and pressed a kiss to the irritated skin. Brock blushed fiercely at the gentle treatment, quickly grabbing the remote and pressing play to start the movie. Jack let Brock get away with that with no comment, intertwining their fingers and settling down himself to watch the movie.

*

They're halfway through the movie now, the popcorn bowl similarly exhausted. Brock can't take his eyes off the screen, as per usual, and for the last fifteen minutes the bowl's gone pretty much ignored. Not sharing Brock's penchant for watching movies until the DVD melts, Jack decides to amuse himself. He picks up a piece of popcorn in one hand, gently wrapping the fingers of his other hand around Brock's neck and squeezing. Brock's lips part, and he manages to tear his gaze away from the screen to look up at Jack, albeit upside down from his position on Jack's lap.

Jack puts the popcorn up to Brock's mouth, watching as Brock opens his mouth for Jack to drop it in. Jack feeds Brock the popcorn, feeling the muscles in his neck work as he swallows. It's a pleasant feeling, Jack thinks, the delicate throat under his fingers contracting.

Jack feeds Brock popcorn that way, until there's about a third of the bowl left. Brock has taken to opening his mouth without prompting from Jack, somewhat regrettably. Until Jack gets an idea.

Jack goes through the motion of taking a piece of popcorn out of the bowl but this time, he doesn't move to place it in Brock's mouth. He watches gleefully as Brock opens his mouth and waits. Seconds pass, Brock's full attention still on the screen, but then –

Brock blinks, finally looking away from the screen and down to Jack's stationary hand still holding the popcorn. His jaw snaps shut with a click of teeth, an angry blush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks.

Brock bolts upright, preparing to bitch Jack out. “You're such a fucking –!”

And the popcorn bowl goes flying, popped and unpopped kernels alike showering the couch and the floor to a chorus of “oh, fuck!” and “Jesus, Brock!”

Jack stands, directing a glare of his own down at Brock, who's half upright on the couch covered in popcorn.

“Off the furniture. Now _.”_

Brock stutters, looking painfully apologetic. “I didn't – I was just, I'm – sorry?”

“You're cleaning this up. _Now._ ” Jack shoos Brock off of the couch, not bothering to be careful of squishing popcorn underfoot further into the carpet.

Brock, arms hugging around his middle, backs away in the direction of the kitchen. “I'll get the vacuum –”

Jack walks over to Brock, grabbing him by the back of the neck. He pushes Brock singlehandedly to his knees on the carpet and pushes his face into the mess.

“You're learnin' how to clean up your own messes. _Again_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ usopp :^)


End file.
